Carpe Diem
by Akuma-No-Seija
Summary: A series of bittter-sweet one-shots including all characters. Rated for Yaoi, language, and SC and violence; This may go up later on. Please R&R!
1. C'est la Mort Part One

A/N:_ Finally back from hiatus. xD *fails* _

_Hey, guys! This new work will consist of several Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) one-shots- a project that I have been preparing for a while. Two to three stories will be posted for each month, for approximately ten to fifteen and a half months depending on update frequency. Please do comment! I would love advice so that I may become a better writer._

There will be **_Yaoi_ **and **_other aspects of mature content_** later on in this one-shot series. If you don't like this, please guys- _don't read._ Just don't. Hate, but, _**go away**_ if you're going to do that. It's _A NUISANCE AND IS UNEEDED AND UNWANTED._

_Regarding this particular story- It was orignially written as a test grade for my English class in one class period (and cost me my world histoty grade, whoopsie.. ^^'). Guess who got a one hundred? XD And because I am a fail, I named this series (Carpe Diem) after a sign hanging above Mrs. Scott's door- Yes, Seize the Day! I love Latin~ There will be more notes towards the end of this, but until then, please, please, please- Enjoy it. And even moreso- once again- above all- PLEASE COMMENT~ _

_-Meg_ \^w^/

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><p><span>C'est la Mort<span> ~Part One~

_"Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris." - Latin quote_

_"I'm not for you! _

_You're not for me! _

_I'll kill you first! _

_You wait and see!_

_ You devil undercover._

_You're not a prince!_

_You're not a friend! _

_You're just a child, _

_and in the end, _

_you're one more selfish lover."_

_..._

_Misery loves company, _

_and company loves more_

_More loves everybody else, _

_But Hell is others." _

_- Emilie Autumn_

* * *

><p><em>"Do you know what I hate- just simply despise- the very most in the entire world, William, darling?" <em>

The night-shattered sky, its stars all broken, spilled out across Holyhead Island(1), bestowing its shadows upon the black-grey rooftops of little penthouses below.

A whiplash of crimson swept from one roof to another like a spattered mass of deep red paint, or, more preferably, _blood. _Behind said whiplash followed a rather composed black-&-white figure, a thin aiguille(2). The two entities whom mastered such features came to an abrupt halt according to the bitter and overwhelming scent of nearby saltwater and rotting fishes- the seaport, off the coast of Anglesey Island in Wales.

Willam casted a quick glance over at his counterpart, the full moon that still loomed overhead bidding a bright glint to his rectangular, black-framed glasses. The blood-red shinigami(3) of his very interest possessed a particularly pouty expression; she stood slumped over with her arms crossed irritably, her bottom lip pursed outwards, and her thin, arched brows were furrowed.

William frowned at his subordinate's distasteful behaviour.

"Make a figure, Grelle. This mission is imperious; I do not want you spoiling it via your childish antics."

"What I _really _hate," Grelle continued, crouching down on the roof and settling into a low kneel, her luminous emerald gaze fixed intensely on the docks below. "Is the crude manner in which that little brat neglects my poor, lovely Sebastian. Did you know, William, love, that that stupid kid actually went so very far as to order Sebastian to-"

"Serve him for all eternity." Wiilliam nudged his spectacles higher up onto the bridge of his slender nose, completing Grelle's statement. "I am aware, yes. And now the former Earl Ciel Phantomhive is _eiusdem generis_(4) with his pet dog- that Michaelis lad. I do wonder how the fellow fancies being chained to that vile little boy forevermore, without the soul he so craved to satisfy his hunger?"

_"Well..!_ That's rubbish if ever I've bloody acknowledged it!" Grelle spat disgustedly in term with a low snarl, intense stare remaining focused below as she lunged her lithe body down lower, black leather-gloved hands grappling firmly to the edge of the slanted roof. The shingles in which it was composed of felt like sandpaper even beneath her woolen vest; it was dappled white with bird droppings and dusted finely in dead plant material and what not. Typically, the flamboyant reaper would create _some _wild scene, being forced to work in such filthy conditions- alas, she was far more interested in this particular task rather than its lasstitudal setting. The silken strands of scarlet hair that cascaded down her curved back flew up in the harsh sirocco, flailing about crazily as if they were desperate- and to the point of insanity- to return to the shinigami's realm above. And yet, Grelle's gaze remained unfazed. Her milk-white profile lit up against the early morning sky, her large, bright eyes unblinking.

She hissed indignantly.

"Bassy deserves better than that God-forsaken child, I say. It chills me right down to the very marrow of my bone to know he is chained to that damned imp forever and ever! It will be like an arranged marriage with absolutely _no_ passion and I am so very impatient of it! My darling Sebastain needs to be loved! I am so, so, _so_ overjoyed that this mission we are about to conduct witll liberate him after four long years, the poor dear."

"Come, now, Grelle- They are both of Satan's liking; they know nothing of such an emotion as love... Why, I'd reckon they would much rather tear each other to shreds!"

"Ooh, are you jealous, Willy?"

"No, I most certainly am not, and please do refrain from calling me that."

"Oh, so frigid! Here, let me warm you up, love!~"

* * *

><p><em>"Sebastian."<em> A small, properly-accented voice laced through the grey-blue smog of the seaport- carrying itself homologous to a note of fine music- to a young man about six feet back, clad in a long, black trench-coat. His raven hair swirled about, caressed in the palms of a tender breeze, the cobweb-delicate fringes tinted a dainty cobalt against the sea and the sky; His burning roseate gaze set upon both such things and attempted to figure where one began and the other ended. The man there stood, transfixed on the rotting old wooden dock, his attention then becoming locked to a profound sapphire stare that appeared no different than what he had been fascinated with prior. His lustrous lips parted slightly, akin to a crow with its beak always agape in a grin; his mind was still very much in awe and it was practically lost, wandering aimlessly, caught somewhere between the sea, the sky, and one angelic, floating orb.

"Sebastian, catch up! And make a figure! Your remissness is _annoying_ me!"

As the hazy, coiled curtains established their evanescence, they revealed but a solitary thespian set squarely upon centre stage- a runty boy of barely thirteen years of age, gaunt and ashen, yet in possession of such a gentle demeanour so befitting of a British nobleman. He spotted a classy soot-coloured frock and waistcoat, knee-length black breeches, a black ascot bow-tie around his neck, knotted in front and puffed up to hide the pleated shirt collar and create a dove-like neck. below the towering, hatter's plush top hat was a head of diluted black hair, accompanied by a dazzling turquoise sheen. An eye-patch of fine black silk regarded his right eye, partially secured beneath long, unkempt bangs.

The scrutinising expression in which he hindered Sebastian with was _seemingly_ impervious.

Sebastian gave a curt bow, a delicate smirk curling up at the corners of his lips. He uttered a short _"Yes, my lord,"_ prior to proceeding with Ciel away from the docking area. When his gaze came to part from the small child minutes later, and his head lifted up, it was as if he had entered upon an alternate realm.

Golden rays of light flooded down from the heavens above, dancing about the billions of blades of bright green grass that swayed gently in the playful zephyr. There stood a plaza with a cobblestone road and a Church called St. Cybi's, in which was walled in by ancient Roman forts on three sides, the sea being the fourth of the walls. Distracted by the chaos of the people and horses and carriages, scrambling about excitedly like diligent honeybees, Sebastian collided into Ciel, who, himself, had paused to steal a glance at the Church in utter disdain. That glance immediately shifted back at Sebastian, assuming into a glare of sharp daggers- yet, from what Sebastian could interpret, it was not directed at him. The boy, now adjacent to him, tilted and swivelled his head away again, tipping his hat with a noir half-gloved hand and nonchalantly advancing towards his original destination: a large, brown-bricked hotel next to a railroad, in which the pair was to retire for the night.

Sebastian, of course, obediently tagged along behind his young lord, never straying again in any manner.

The butler held open the suite's door for Ciel after checking into the hotel lobby, waited for him to enter, then stepped in after and closed the door behind himself; and meanwhile, Ciel had crawled away like a worm from a bird and he had settled upon the bed- placed in the centre of the room's right wall and pressed firmly to it- and he had taken the plush folds of the vanilla duvet and tangled his tinny fingers therein, ignoring the lingering smoky scent that clung tightly to the fabric, as if to mock him, for he clung all the same. Quite simply, he scowled, and his one orb sunk like a piercing fang into the dark apparition of Sebastian, whom was poised before the nightstand and reaching a hand into his pocket. From out it, he pulled a silver watch with a lavish luster; and he flipped it open with the force of demure fingers to read the time, although he was not unaware of the biting blue stare of his master.

And the master quipped, "Tell me something. Enlighten me, Sebastian."

"Is there anything in particular the young master would like me to say?"

"Is there?"

"I should believe there is, yes."

"No, there is _not."_

"Oh?"

"I am wasting your time precisely in the hollow fashion that you have wasted my own."

And a long silence did hang in the air like a witch from her rope, wrapped taut around her fragile neck; harsh and merciless; the strangling hands of God.

The orb looked out the window on the opposite side of the room, the caramel curtains thin and sweeping phantoms dancing elegantly to a waltz- the window was open.

"We're being _followed."_ said Ciel, his voice a solemn murmur akin to that of a wasp away in its soft pink next. "Why have you failed to inform me?"

"I assumed you already knew." said Sebastian.

"You did not act upon this problem, Sebastian, in any manner at all. Now, pray tell- Do you believe it intelligent- so much as _proper-_ to keep shut up when you are more than aware that-"

"If I may," Sebastian cut in. "You _did _actually order for me to-"

_"Shut up!_ Do _not _interrupt your master!" And such earned him a loud slap to the face, then he was regarded with a hard look and a dramatic sigh- for what good was a cryptic servant in this world? Oh, not good at all, hardly even _benign,_ although it was no mystery as to why that was.

After all, such simply had to be expected of a _devil. _

"We have a day until the mouth falls again(5). Nothing can be swallowed down with us. I should not need to repeat myself to you. Correct?"

Though the two pools of rust placed deep within his skull threw a caustic pitch of corrosive hatred, Sebastian cascaded to a kneel before the little child and arched his sinewy neck down, an appendage swept lightly over his upper left ribcage(6).

_"Etiam, dominus meus_(7)._.."_ The humiliation of a servant became his saving grace.

"Anyway," said Ciel. "are you quite certain that a mouth would fall agape on a island named _Holyhead?_ I have my doubts. But I am entitled to dubious thoughts, that being said."

His butler hindered him with a cocked eyebrow and rose from his kneel silently.

'If you will pardon my saying so- I beg to differ, young master."

He was picking the buttons of his trench-coat undone, and when he had finished, he rolled the large mass of black material off his broad shoulders in three fluid motions, then taking it in his arms and folding it neatly. The tails at the back of his revealed suit glided and flapped like the wings of crow via the wind, which was teasing mercilessly at them and every other weak object.

"On that _faithful day_(8), I do recall- you asked three things of me. One- always be diligent in my work, and follow your every order. Two- never betray you. And three- _never lie to you._ And since, these have become my aesthetics as your butler. Do you doubt my words to you_ now?"_

Ciel contemplated this and then shook his head slowly. "A devil does not break the rules of his own contract, for devils are rather democratic creatures. Even now, it cannot be revoked. It is not _your _words that I doubt; it is the _Faith_ this island appears to be shrouded in. Must this life establish itself first with such tedious complications?"

"I _doubt_ this life is a _thing_ in which you cannot overcome when your spirit is sleeping somewhere cold."

"...And what becomes of us if we are killed?"

The wind died.

Sebastian pulled quietly at the middle finger of the white glove on his left hand (and Ciel scrunched up his little potato nose when he realised that the digit was directed at him) and tugged the gloved off, letting it fall to his feet with a quiet smack, the expression on his face like that of a Roman statue's- in that he appeared absolutely stoic.

"It is assumed that we merely cease to exist, and henceforth, become nothingness."

"Hm." Ciel slid to his feet and onto the wooden floor, his porcelain face, and his solitary sapphire orb turned up to study the tall, black-clad butler with the intensity of a feral feline. He outstretched a scrawny arm and brushed his lily-white fingers against Sebastian's cheek fondly.

"I wonder- Would it be more favourable to be swallowed by the mouth of the Noble Beast, or to simply cease, becoming- and leaving nothing behind- but memories? What do you think, my _pet?_ Tell me something."

Sebastian there stood, transfixed on the cherry-wood floor, and he, with his left hand- tattooed with a royal violet pentacle that 'round its interior read "Tetregrammaton"(9)- lifted away Ciel's eye-patch and the lilac orb that was revealed- burdened symmetrically- burned into a bloody pool; and the crow's beak parted into that eternal grin; and then that grin evolved and locked into a malicious smirk and the key was thrown aside into a pit of flames. Four mirrored pools were then born and the _black aiguilles_ that had bidded them a _spattered mass of crimson_ presented themselves boldly(10).

Said Sebastian, _"We are being followed by Death."_

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES<strong>

(1) **Holyhead Island-** A small island off the west coast of Anglesey Island in Wales.

(2) **Aiguille- **French for "needle," used here to describe William's lithe structure and sharp appearance and demeanour.

(3) **Shinigami-** "Japanese for "death god," aka, a grim reaper.

(4) **Eiusdem generis-** Latin for "of the same (kind)."

(5)** "Until the mouth falls agape."- ** Meaning "Until a portal to Hell opens for us."

(6) **"His upper left ribcage"-** This is the location of the heart. Sebastian is not described as having one here, as is homage to his demonic heritage, and henceforth, he is "heartless."

(7) "**Etiam, dominus meus"-** Latin for "Yes, my lord."

(8) **The Faithful Day -** This is a reference to the day in which Sebastian and Ciel formed a Faustian contract.

(9) **"Tetragrammaton"-** Also "Yaweh." In Spanish/Italian, it can sound like "dumb/stupid puzzle." Hence, Sebastian's demonic seal mocks the Faith.

(10) **"Four mirrored pools... presented themselves boldly."-** Simplified (as this is symbolism), "Their eyes narrowed into slits."

_This story takes place in the autumn of 1890._

_Regarding Grell- he is referred to as a female in this because this story was originally written to be turned into my English teacher (I wasn't certain that she would take well to his... sexuality... .). This will change as other parts of this story are updated (this is part one of two or three, I haven't decided as of yet). "Grelle" is the way his name is actually spelt in the English translation of the manga, and so I took it upon myself to spell it this way as well. _

Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) (c) Yana Toboso


	2. Snowflakes

_A/N: Argh, this one sucks compared to the last one. xD Bear with me..._

_This is an AloisxClaude fluff (though it... can appear suggestive if you look reallll close...) that I wrote in Dallas while my parents were doing some financial crap. I was watching Shrek 2 and writing this at the same time, so... Beware. . _

_R&R! ^^_

* * *

><p><span>Snowflakes<span>

_"Heaven today is but a way _

_to a place I once called home. _

_Heart of a child, one final sigh _

_as another love goes cold._

_Once my heart beat to the rhythm of the falling snow._

_ Blackened below, the river now flows, _

_a stream of molten virgin snow._

_For the heart I'll never have,_

_ for the child forever gone-_

_ The music flows because it longs _

_for the heart I once had. _

__..._  
><em>

__Time will not heal a dead boy's scars; __

__Time will kill..."__

__-Nightwish __

* * *

><p><strong><em>A<em>**_lois was but a lazy worshipper in a Roman Catholic Church, _as he knelt before the window in his study with his knees pressed to the pasty wall-trimming and with his scrawny, white legs sprawled out behind him. He had, at this point, rested his knobby little elbows upon the window ledge (if the ledge itself was any wider, it could pass as a make-shift sort of bench) and was cradling his round head in his hands, his pale azure gaze intensely fixated on the world outside the glass, in which separated him from it. And yet, the irises of orbs so perfectly set within the plaster of his angelic visage reflected that world's every drop of dullness- from the overhanging cinder-coloured clouds of woe, down to the very last blade of yellowed grass; dead.

The boy did not let his focus stray for even a millisecond even though his lips- previously set in a straight line and pressed there ever so firmly- curled into a mischievous grin; an impish smirk, as one might better describe it.

With a sing-song voice, he chimed, _"Houhe O Taraluna, Ron de Roterel~"_

And it seemed, within the very second in which his mouth came yet again to close, that a very small, iridescent snowflake came fluttering- a butterfly- from the solemn skies above, and it was soon followed by several others until a thin sheet of them came to layer the barren surface of earth below, and Alois's grin grew wide into a full-fledged smile, for, he thought, it all looked like powdered sugar upon a very large, delicious creme puff. His tongue- pink and pointed and slick with saliva- flicked out across his lips as he further explored this idea. How he would love to take the white substance and consume it- there was and would be simply no hesitation to be inferred.

"Mmm..."

And when he came to, he blinked to himself and decided that he was, in fact, rather ravenous. Where, now, was his butler? After all, he had just called for him, and still, he was not pres-

"Hello, Claude. It's snowing." Alois announced, leaning in more toward the window. And then he swiveled his head around, beaming brightly as a childish giggle whistled through his rosy lips, and his butler but stared at him as if he was an insect crawling upon a platter of fine, fresh food, desperate to feed only himself and contaminate Claude's source of nutrition without a care in the world. What a selfish, ignorant, incompetent, idiotic little child. _Vermin. _

It was _disgusting. _

Alois viewed the situation with an entirely different perspective, for he had first met his fiendish servant- and it seemed to have been forever ago, now- whilst trodding through the snow-cloaked forest, and he had glanced up at the frosted threes in all their breathtaking, winter-forced glory, and he had called out,

_"Houhe O Taraluna, Ron de Roterel~"_ because this was the chant- so said the other boys residing at the Earl Trancy's estate at the time- that could summon the fairies, and those fairies would grant you _any_ wish you so desired, if only you uttered this gibberish old thing...

And in a cobweb, with every solitary thread of its very being, lightly endowed in glistening gems of ice crystals, appeared a little black-&-gold wolf spider.

"Are you a fairy?" inquired the boy once called Jim McCain(1).

"...I am a demon." The spider had replied bluntly, and Jim smiled to himself, because _surely _demons are more beneficial wish-granters than fairies, because they didn't care if your heart was tainted and desired but very bad things. Demons liked that sort of thing, after all, and even better, they _understood_ it. Because, in the end, it all made sense and was all okay. Henceforth, evil was truly good, and therefore, became Jim's- No, _Alois's_- way of life; his absolute_ culture_.

Yet, even his perspective (in which was so very different from his butler's) did not fail to let him acknowledge Claude's expression, and, spinning around to take a seat at the very end of the window ledge- his posterior rather sticking out at its endpoint and his hands tightly groping its sides for support, his sinewy legs spread as he balanced his weight on only the heels of his feet- he knitted his brows together and said,

"Come here, Claude." And with a single, elegant index finger, he beckoned him.

The butler obediantly came to take his place before his little master, his searing, golden gaze completely emotionless as he appeared to wait for an order from Alois.

An order did not come.

Instead- young as Alois was- he had sense enough to make a feint of feeling great regret of oh-so many things. It was no very different matter for the boy to call tears to his eyes. After all, loss of loved ones and a set of big blue eyes, brimmed with the blackest of silken lashes, are great assistants if you want to cry; and alois cried very naturally indeed. And though Claude would often make affectionate gestures towards the adolescent boy, they would always be lacking of some vital quality in which Alois simply could not pinpoint, something that he always searched for but could never find no matter how deep he dug. The devil's embraces were not warm, as expected from one whose origin was Hell, nor were they necesarily _cold. _They were, in fact, entirely meaningless. And this bothered Alois quite a bit, for another reason he decided he was still very uncertain of. Was it that he but craved his butler's companionship? No. What a silly thought, indeed...

The household servants, from Hannah to the triplets, gave him a thousand embraces with each passing day, but what Alois wanted a great deal more, that he had not be granted as such a gesture, was the reassurance that he was truly cared about; _loved, _as one might put it.

"...I want to go out." he said in a demanding tone, and with Claude's voluntary aid in putting on his dearly beloved plum-coloured frock, Alois was then led away by said butler from the wretched thought bubble where one kind, loving look had never lightened the gloom of his younger years. And he burst into an agony of his childish grief as some new door closed after him. yes, _wretched_ as were the tiny devils in misery he was abandoning, they were the only friends he had ever genuinely known; and a sense of loneliness in the great wide world, sank into the child's heart for the millionth time.

Claude's sinewy legs walked on through the corridors of the manor house with long strides; little Alois, firmly grasping his white shirt cuff beneath that black tailcoat his servant sported, trotted along beside him without resistance. The butler had taken notice to the tears brimming his master's blue-sky stare like rainclouds gathering, and though he genuinely did not care, he had figured acting otherwise was his duty as a butler to the Trancy household, even if he didn't _want _to act like anything more than what he knew he was.

"Your highness," he but nearly crooned, his deep and properly accented voice so akin to he finest of velvets- so absolutely delicate and comforting, perhaps like sailing across the calm sea at night with the light of the silver moon caressing you until you fall asleep, the sound of water lapping rhythmically at the exterior of your old pirate's ship. "Something appears to be bothering you. Am I correct?"

Though they had right near reached their destination outside and Alois's pale hand lay ready to pull open the door handle with an excited force, the adolescent stopped ashen in his tracks and remained silent, his expression almost appearing as if he was about to experience a heart attack or maybe even a stroke. With eyes stretched wide, he did tremble.

"...Open the door for me, Claude. It's too heavy, and I can't do it all by my lonesome. Make haste, now."

It may have seemed- to any other person- that Alois was attempting to avoid his slave's inquiry with absolute _bullshit._ Alas, such was not the case, and Claude- knowing his master's mannerisms in the way he knew the back of his own hand- immediately picked up on Alois's hint, nodded, and advanced toward he door so that he might tug it open effortlessly, his colourless lips pressed into a hard, monotonous line.

_"I can't do it all by my lonesome..." _

And the greet wooden doors swung open with an ear-shattering creak to reveal a gorgeous cloak blanketing the outside world. And everywhere you turned- every nook, every cranny- your surrounding would be so bleached that only the presence of the bare, black and twisted trunks of tired trees were reassurance that you were not, in fact, blind, or dead, but merely on the _verge_ of said conditions.

Because everything else in which the bitter snow came to blanket was most certainly but to be labeled _"Deceased."_

When Claude turned his chin down again, Alois was not there, but upon lifting his gaze up in a rather dumbfounded state of mind, he caught a bob of blond hair disappearing within the forest quite rapidly, and when he blinked in realization, the apparition of his young master had vanished completely.

And Claude sighed to himself, unamused, because night would fall soon, and if he did not catch up with Alois in time, he was more than certain that the boy would find himself in a great deal of peril, as such- in Alois's case, anyway- was inevitable.

* * *

><p>For a long time, Alois did run, and when night came, he quitted his retreat, and wandered in the old English wood; and now, no longer restrained by the fear of the false comfort of others who, deep down, despised him with a meticulous, caustic passion, Alois gave vent to his anguish in morose howlings, sobs, and weeps. He was like a wind beast that had broken the toils; destroying the objects that obstructed him, and raging through the wood with a fox-like swiftness. Oh, what a miserable night he passed; the cold stars shimmered in mockery and the naked trees waved their tangled tresses above him; now and then the sweet voice of a nightingale burst forth amidst the universal stillness. All, save Alois, were at rest or in enjoyment; Yes, Alois, like the arch fiend(2), bore a Hell within him, and, finding himself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and destruction around himself, and then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin.<p>

But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; Alois became fatigued with excess of bodily exertion, and sank down in the frigid, white snow, in the sick impotence of despair, and cried, his heart freezing over, on the verge of death- For Alois cried alone with only the snow that blended with his flesh to comfort him.

"...Your highness. You mustn't run away like that."

Alois lifted his head, and before him lay a black silhouette in the snow, looming over him like in his dreams- and for only a little moment, Alois wondered if perhaps Claude had come to finally bring to him the pleasure so deliciously portrayed in those sinful fantasies(3). The biting cold that brought him back at reality in the next moment told him bitterly,_ "No."_

"What do _you _care?" the boy hissed spitefully, abruptly shooting to his feet and smacking Claude across the face with every establishment of strength he could possibly muster up after his tedious ordeal. "What the _hell _do you care?"

Then, he took he small fists, and began to beat and pound and bang at Claude's broad chest in vain desperation, grunting in such frustration that he tired rapidly and decided that he was feeling fairly light-headed. And with a stifled gasp, he dropped to his ruddied knees back into the white Hell and clung to one of Claude's legs, shuddering, trembling, weeping, exhausted.

Claude was a demon of great patience when he chose to be, and was far more than accustomed to putting up with this behaviour from Alois; therefore, the heating he had received had left him totally unfazed, and kneeling down, he took his master by the chin with a cupped hand, and looked him in the eyes.

Here was the tearful gaze of an unloved child. It had never once gone unrecognized by Claude, nor did the affect it burdened upon the young earl of Trancy- His highness.

"Please stand up." he requested of the child, and Alois did, Claude himself doing the very same.

When he saw that Alois had calmed down significantly, he curled up his lifeless lips in a half-hearted smile.

"Tilt your head back, your highness, and open your little mouth. And close your eyes, please."

Naturally, Alois would inquire why, and Claude would refuse to answer him in an almost teasing fashion, and Alois would become frustrated and flash him a pouty frown, eventually doing as his butler asked him because he curiosity would too soon win him over.

In the darkness of dropped eyelids, Alois stood still, his small head tossed back.

Claude, remaining at his same post before the boy, studied the falling, minuscule snowflakes as they, like infant angels, fluttered and came to station themselves upon Alois's pristine, rosy lips, and slowly melt from their heat. And finally, one came to fall upon the tip of his hot, moist tongue.

"...A snowflake." Alois opened his eyes, looking a Claude blankly, as if he had been expecting something entirely different, but, slowly, he began to smile until he burst into a jovial fit of high-pitched laughter.

"You wanted to cheer me up, Claude, didn't you?" Alois proclaimed so that the whole forest might hear him. "Well? Say something!"

What was this? Cheer his master up? Well, perhaps to bid him less annoying, thought Claude to himself, not fully comprehending this situation. To have Alois cry was an absolute nuisance. But to have him smile- What was that like..? Was it at all natural to actually _want _Alois to be happy, if only for a short-lived period of time? And over such a simple thing as capturing a snowflake on his tongue? _Rubbish._

_What is it, exactly, to care?_ Quipped the butler to himself.

It was as if Alois's smile was the sun shining upon the whimsical winter wonderland of Claude's entire being- and more currently, the servant's bewildered visage, in which came to melt into absolute confidence in his new found emotions and state of mind. And though night had only just fallen, it was as if the world had opened its eyes to see the dawning of a new day.

"...Yes. I wished to cheer my master up. Pray tell, did I succeed in doing so?"

"Hm... Not yet." grinned Alois, tugging at Claude's sleeve impatiently as if he was a toddler, for, he had not forgotten his sharp hunger pains that had originated earlier in the day and believed that they simply must be taken care of right away. "Take me home, and make me some pudding(4). Then- and only then- will I be satisfied. _Maybe." _

Claude gave a humble, solitary nod and, prying Alois from his coat, he took hold instead of the child's hand (which was half the size of his own) and led him back home, away from the loathsome cold, and into a sanctum of warmth that he believed powerful enough to melt away all the snow in the world, and they- their fingers intertwined- became one, for perhaps the first time since they had met, setting aside all differences that existed between them.

And perhaps this was for the last time, as well- for such things always do happen to come unexpectedly.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES<strong>

1) **Jim McCain-** Alois's original name; this is the correct spelling of it in English.

2)** Arch Fiend-** The Devil

3) **Alois's fantasies-** Alois was sold to the Earl of Trancy a few years prior to this story; the earl was known to have committed pedophilia with young boys, and in fact, kept a group of children at his estate. Alois's sexuality has been affected by such treatment, as has his state of thought, his innocence lost. To desire such things from another man would only be considered natural to him.

4) **Pudding-** a generic word for dessert, especially during this time in England.

Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) (c) Yana Toboso


End file.
